Let Life Be Delicious
by FluffySorbet
Summary: Grand Jipangu really is an exciting city, and Hebi isn't doubtful about that fact. But her problem is, she gave up her life to protect something she knows could possibly no longer exist. A Sanji romance. OC.
1. Hebi's Struggle

**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own One Piece.

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><p><strong>Let Life Be Delicious<strong>

In the great city of Grand Jipangu, where Sakura flowers can't wait to bloom in the sweet smell of earthy spring, life is bliss. On first glance, the strength of the economy is spoken for by the architecture.

All buildings stand with pride under majestic blue roofs. There are two main rivers, and although shallow, the water runs clear with bulky wooden bridges arching proudly across.

The street markets are full of people in the day. Store owners would yell out their best bargains to draw in customers. Children come out to play ball and fly kites. Once-a-year festivals also make the city boil with excitement.

I rarely see such events – I listen. My part of the town only comes to life after the sun goes to sleep. My pale skin gives away that I live in amongst the shadows. Or with the shadows – frankly, I see no difference between the one another.

In this city, there are two fundamental types of citizens. There are poor people; there are rich people. The rich abuse much power, but the poor have none, and where there are rich men, there are _dirty_ rich men.

That is how businesses like us make money.

The kind of place I work for is a brothel. Similar to those market store owners, mama-san lures in sexually hungry men.

'You have five minutes to get yourself ready. You know Mr. Wakaouji is a very impatient man.'

That would be my Mama-san, and Mr. Wakaouji is a regular customer of mine.

The brothel is set on a slope street, in a bath house as a disguise. The entire building has been interiorly structured with red oak wood – including the shoji*, windows, pillars, rafters, staircase, room separators, tables and chairs – and cream colour walls.

The building consists of three floors and is constructed to be hollow in the centre. Apart from the first floor**, each square floor landings, enclosed by connected staircase railings are also where individual rooms reside.

The main hall on the first floor, straight ahead of the entrance is an open sided hexagon pavilion. Behind the indoor pavilion is a miniature pond with a small rock fountain, a granite lantern, and floating lotus flowers. The pond is enclosed by a band of pebbles.

The pond is in the middle of a curved, two-way staircase which merges into one. The staircase hugs the pond cosily.

The baths are only the first floor only; the second floor holds hotel standard rooms in order for customers to stay overnight. The third floor is for workers to exist in and the stair leading up there is on the parallel side to the first set.

Sunlight cannot penetrate into the main parts of the building as a result of the surrounding rooms with securely closed doors; candles must always stay continuously lit. Mama-san has chosen red and gold paper lanterns as a theme since she started the business over twenty years ago.

My room, this room, is my only home. It's split into two parts by a mere three-part folding screen. There's the basic furniture of a low square table, floor mats, a cupboard, a dressing table and a folded up futon*** all resting on bamboo tatami****.

My bamboo blinds are permanently rolled up because I like to watch the hectic day time streets and the mellow night sky. The window is the closest abstract entity to actually being in civilization.

Unfortunately, I barely spend up to four hours in here every day, and to think I would attempt to break away from the only place that provides shelter above my head might seem ridiculous, but I did try once. Though never did I dare again.

The reason is simply because Mama-san took hold of something precious to me – my little sister's ashes. She isn't alive anymore, but as an older sibling, I will forever be bounded to the duty of protecting her. So I didn't need to think twice about staying. A lifetime of imprisonment.

Every day I've learned to numb my feelings – it's the only way to escape temporarily – though it's been six years now, and as my nineteenth birthday creeping around the corner of tomorrow, I raise a cup of sake in looking forward to being free.

I sit down at my dressing table as I pour myself another cup. I smile at the mirror as my worn reflection smiles back. Mirrors reflect inner truth; in my mirror, I see nothing but a pair of hollow sockets.

I tell myself: even if this dream of freedom is just a distant one, I never want to be tired of dreaming. I visualise that day arriving and the first things I may like to do when I walk the streets as a 'normal' citizen.

A new dress, a new hairstyle, definitely less make-up, along with a humble husband if it's not too much to ask for.

In the six extensive, slow years of my life, every time I gaze at those expensively trained geisha girls in their teahouse across the busy street – dancing, singing, selling their talents – I find myself screaming with bitter jealousy deep inside.

I finish readying my hair and make-up with tacky hair trinkets and red lip paint. To match the scene, I put on a long red floral kimono and secure it with an obi***** behind the folding screen. With that, I slide my feet in a pair of okobo******.

'What's taking you so long?' Mama-san's loud voice intrudes my already clouded mind. I quickly slip the sake cup and bottle in my draw just before she slides open the door with obvious exasperation.

Her round face pops in, the mole on her chin always bothered me. 'I'm sorry, Mama-san,' I apologise calmly, maintaining a good sense of mannerism. 'I'm ready now.'

I stand up. I tug at my dress. I make sure my shoulders are on display.

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><p>I can see Mr. Wakaouji faintly through the draping silk fabric at the pavilion as I carefully make my way down the stairs. At thirty-two, he has inherited his father's import business and became the new boss to the only coffee merchant in the city.<p>

Some of my sisters are already keeping him entertained, which is a temporary relief for me.

For a reason unknown to me, he seems to have an exclusive taste for me. I fix on my lips my best smile and approach in his direction seductively.

'Good evening, Mr. Wakaouji,' I say as I emerge through the silk. He signals that it's time for my sisters to leave. He is already aroused.

'So,' I carry on speaking in a low voice while keeping my eyelids only half open. 'Must be a certain wind that blew you off the ground, and you landed here. In which case, lucky me.'

He lets his eye sparkle as if telling me that he likes my words of teasing and praising. 'I've missed you,' I lie confidently.

Now I know that words are simply words.

When I first began to work, I could hardly bring myself to sound such words. They would disgust me to the stomach and I would sit alone at night to sulk in complete disgrace.

Time can really change hearts. Right or wrong?

I feel his arm wind around my waist as he stubs out his half-smoked imported western cigarette. His lips expectedly come in contact against my skin and the moisture in his breath is too warm for comfort. 'You always know what to say,' he whispers as I feel all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

'Forget the bath,' he continues. 'Let's go upstairs now.'

I say nothing. I take his hand and lead him away from the pavilion. I remind myself that I must provide all services as the customers' demands, with a smile. No matter how degrading. Just like how Mama-san has taught us since day one – 'no' is a forbidden word.

Although Mr. Wakaouji is a handsome man, and our age groups are somewhat close, I cannot help but to picture a faceless man in his place. He has an ugly personality.

I brace myself for tonight is another night I have to endure. As soon as he settles in a room, I will suggest to my faithful customer that sake would be a good idea.

He agrees.

We drink, we fool around, I pretend to laugh at his jokes, we drink more, he takes off my dress, I take off his robe, he shoves his tongue in my mouth and some more, I pray for the end of the night.

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><p>The day is nearing its last moments by the time I wake up. I've apparently missed the crisp echoes of morning birds singing and instead tuned in to the rough chanting of late afternoon crows.<p>

The acidic taste of hangover has taken the advantage of the night to spread within my dry mouth.

At least last night was another hazy night.

I slowly manoeuvre out of the sheets from under his arm, being careful not to rouse him. My endeavour is I never glance at my clients' sleeping face.

I put on my creased up dress disorderly before exiting the room quietly.

I slide the door shut with a silent sigh and begin to make my way back to my own room – my safe place. I prepare to throw a bath as soon as-

A fellow sister's voice knocks me out of my contemplation. 'How was Mr. Wakaouji last night?' Maaya, the most popular girl here in this brothel, teases me in a friendly way. Her long, red wavy locks sway softly to her movements, complimenting her tanned skin and curves. She is always sensibly dressed. Rumour has it that men travel from the neighbouring cities to meet her.

'He only has an eye for you, you know?' Maaya smiles, also joining me after leaving one of the rooms. 'We're all jealous of you!'

'Why? He pays, I provide the service. It's that simple.' I say in a flat voice.

'Quit being modest! If you marry him you'll get to wave goodbye to this shitty place,' Maaya giggles but I can tell she's serious. It baffles me how she can be so optimistic.

'I can't picture a life with that man,' I grimace. 'He's arrogant, irresponsible, and it's not like he will cry if I died.'

'The room I just came out of...' Maaya's face becomes solemnly sincere. '...was with a fifty-six year old pervert. You're lucky that Mr. Wakaouji is thirty-two, Hebi-chan!'

'Maaya-chan...' We hug each other in equal empathy as we stop in front of my door.

'Don't let go of your chance, Hebi-chan, the rest of us are still waiting for one. Life has to be worth living, right?' She smiles genuinely.

I feel warm tears fill the frame of my eyes, threatening to fall out. 'Thank you, Maaya-chan.'

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><p><strong><em>Phew, that's the first one out of the way. Sorry about the cheesy title hehe.<em>**  
><em><strong>This is the first One Piece story I wrote so please review :3!<strong>  
><em>

*Traditional Japanese sliding doors;  
>**The first floor refers to the ground floor;<br>***Japanese bedding;  
>****Japanese floor mats;<br>*****Sash/waistband worn with a kimono;  
>******High platform sandal worn by Maikos (Geishas in training).<p>

_**Just to clarify that Hebi is not Nami in this story.**_


	2. A Golden Hair Stranger Appears

**Disclaimer:** I do NOT own One Piece.

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><p><strong>Let Life Be Delicious<strong>

My life is practically predictable, as I live by a dead set routine – or so I thought. When I went to slide open the door, I never expected to discover Mama-san resting at my table, enjoying her lunch and unhurriedly sipping some piping hot green tea.

There is something else on the table: approximately ten empty sake bottles – and I know they are empty because I was the very person who consumed every last drop in those bottles and Mama-san must have been snooping around. One notion is for sure, and that's I've been caught red-handed. I hope my eyes haven't confessed it all.

'Good morning, Mama-san.' I strive to proceed as if innocent.

In an assertive manner she utters, 'Do not even try to justify yourself.' My tiny, insignificant voice could not enter across the room. 'You're a clever girl, I thought, but to steal sake from the kitchen and not getting rid of the evidence?'

The sour taste tears at the back of my throat causes a hard lump to form. I swallow but it repeatedly surfaces.

'Theft is a filthy habit.'

A nerve snaps in my brain. My cheeks are heating up. 'I had to do something to soothe the pain!' I exclaim with courage.

She merely looks at me from under her lashes, 'This business does not give you permission to feel anything.'

'If that's the case, I should feel nothing at all when you threatened me into this business!' I shout. Silhouettes have gathered on the other side of the paper-thin door, murmuring. My mind is not thinking clearly, not for a change; this is happening too fast, too blurry.

Mama-san calmly dabs her greasy lips with a napkin. 'But does it really make a difference when the upper hand is mine?' she callously grins. 'Don't confuse your little head again.'

'No,' I refuse to be patronised once more. I shake my head. 'You are mistaken. Lives are not born to be controlled forever by _you_.'

'Enlighten me, what kind of life would you like to lead?'

'I just want to be out there!' I point towards the window, my voice unyielding. 'Even if you can prevent me from escaping, you can only _try_ to kill my hopes.'

Hearing this, her eyes give away that she is, even just a little, shocked at my daring defiance, but then a corner of her lips lifts. She laughs. 'I suspected you would say something like that. I gave you a chance to behave yourself, and perhaps own up to your faults, but you tossed it back in my face. Now I will show the consequence of disrespect to me.'

I clench my fists. I remind myself that being punished physically is the easy way out.

She calls for somebody by appointing to the identity of 'papa-san' and commands him to take me outside.

The floor quakes as a frighteningly immense figure steps in to obey his order. His back is bent because this building has low ceilings. Without a word, the shadowy figure looms closer to me. My jaw drops and my knees buckle. He catches me before I hit the ground, grasping me by the waist with his muscular arms and elevates me over his rock hard shoulder. The obi on my roughly assembled kimono comes undone, leaving parts hanging loosely against this mystery man's clammy skin. With my petrified sisters watching, I pound into his back as hard as I can with my hands like hammers, though he's unaffected despite my toughest effort. Already, he is approaching the top of the main hall staircase.

Flashing repetitively through my head is an idea of last resort. I have no moment to spare to consider whether or not if this is a smart move. In an instant, my teeth are stapled to the back his neck. The taste and smell of blood oozes in and around my mouth and nostrils just as I hear the man bellow in agony.

Subsequently, he flings me into the vacant space in front of him – above the stairs. I clutch tightly at the collar of my dress as I hit the steps and rolling clumsily down each individual block, I feel the blunt edges dig into my body.

When I regain awareness of the happenings, about the same time the soreness kicks in, I'm lying on my back gazing at the muttering bodies leaning over the square landing. In the corner of my eye, I see Maaya on her knees, by Mama-san's side, pulling on her kimono, begging her to give the order to stop this man.

I realise I've triggered anger within that man. His roar echoes intensely in my ears. In this split second I question myself: _Is my life worth living, like Maaya-chan said? And where's Mr. Wakaouji right now?_ Of course, he's asleep still. Not even his business, the root of his power, can make him care enough.

The beast of a man storms over to me alarmingly, though I do not move a single pointless muscle. I wait. He grabs my long hair. He begins to drag me through the entrance of the brothel.

'Please don't lose your will to fight!' Maaya's helping voice rings a bell in my baffled mind but it's too late to fight back. The brightness of the sky is stinging my sensitive eyes.

Once we were on the street, he throws me onto the ground. I panic as I am anxiously concerned about my indecent body being seen. By now I notice, as well as my obi, my okobos are missing. I frantically brush excess material from my dress over my bare feet as I quickly pull my knees securely to my chest and bury my face in my knees.

Mama-san strolls out. 'Is this where you want to be?' She scolds coldly, referring to the streets. Frowning pedestrians are staring at me with disapproval.

'Yes!' I scream with pride. Yes, there's nowhere for me to belong in the society outside. And no, I never wanted to be out here in this particular way. I remain silent.

That man's body now towering before me like a mountain. In a raspy voice he cries out, 'This is for the biting!' With that, his palm makes a crisp contact with my left cheek causing me to collapse from the force.

Next I hear cackling from Mama-san along with the sharp ringing in my left ear. 'Your destiny is to fulfil mine, Hebi. You have no other choice!'

'No, no, no!' I scream louder than ever before. My voice is torn but I want to extinguish this feeling of contradiction taking over my heart. I'm desperate to believe there's hope left for me outside this corrupt business.

Suddenly, a leg hit that shady man's face at the speed of lightning – so fast, it was an explosion of a black and blue blur. And he is forcedly slammed to the ground, knocked out of consciousness.

'Oi,' a young man's voice says. He pauses and flickers a match before continuing. 'You smudged this lady's lip paint.'

Mama-san yelps and runs back into the brothel.

I cannot be sure if this is real. Did somebody powerful save me from the evil claws of Mama-san? I dare not glance at this mysterious stranger.

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><p><em><strong>This was a short one, but I assure you the next one will be good, because Sanji is making his first proper appearance.<strong>  
><strong>Reviews please :3~~~~<strong>  
><em>


	3. I Forgot About My Own Life!

**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own One Piece.

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><p><strong>Let Life Be Delicious<br>**Sanji's Point of View**  
><strong>

The sun is setting; a row of crows are cawing in the deep orange sky.

The streets are quieting down. I find my footsteps become more frequent in need to deliver some emergency restock at my restaurant – Pinwheel (Kazaguruma) – even though I am the chef – and the stores are preparing for closing if I don't hurry.

Nami-san was mad because Luffy-oyabun downed most of our food today with no mercy. The important part is he put the bill on his tab again. Knowing Nami-san's outstanding accounting skills, steam must be coming out of her ears and up the chimney by now. I can't let her down.

I rush pass a corner into a slope street when, in front of a red light emitting bath house, the back of a crying young woman comes into my sight. A bulky man is wearing a furious expression has just slapped the defenceless girl in her face while a smug overweight woman is smirking at the commotion.

I was raised to keep to an absolute chivalry because women don't receive the respect they deserve. Under no circumstances would I harm a lady, and I acquire extreme dislike towards men who does. To be more exact, I despise the existence of such men.

I feel rage burning every last stem within my nervous system. That was more than the reason I need to want to kick the life out of a man.

I race towards that man. I leap into the air and I swing my right leg at his annoying face.

The chubby woman shrieks and dashes into the building.

'Oi,' I say casually while lighting my pipe for a quick drag of smoke. 'You smudged this lady's lip paint.' Then I realise he was knocked out stone cold – so much for all those muscles.

I shrug. 'Are you alright, miss,' I ask the sobbing girl politely. Her long black hair is covering most of her face that I can't make out what her features look like.

She doesn't answer. Her shaking hand tries to straighten her messy hair, to separate some of the tangled strands with her delicate fingertips. I now recognise she has a square fringe and long side bangs hanging just below her chest. On her lashes there are shiny teardrops dangling in the leftover sunlight.

She gazes up at me with her sparkling dark eyes and a quiet whimper escapes her lips: 'Why did you do that?'

I stare at her. I can't tear my eyes away, not because I feel ridiculed that she didn't thank me, but because I have never seen such a broken spirit, yet her beauty is undeniably alluring. Such insane beauty I almost thought I saved a goddess by mistake.

'Please,' I reach out my hand. 'Let me help you up.' She takes a breath like a sob and hesitates. I know it will take more than a gentleman's gesture to mend her wound of humiliation so I invite myself in to pull her up by the arm. As gently as I can.

Blankly, she mumbles to herself the words 'Six years...' but trails off when more tears well up in her eyes. 'I swore I would protect her.' She then inhales deeply and begins to toddle towards the bath house, staring at the ground before her injured bare feet.

'Wait a minute... Why are you going back there? Wait!' I yell but she ignores me so I catch her by the wrist. 'You'll be beaten for sure!'

She pauses, and without turning back she mumbles, 'Thank you, sir. But I have to go. Even if they'd skin me alive.'

I admit I'm impressed at the bravery of this girl. Or shall I say stubbornness? Moreover, I'm puzzled and intrigued at the reason behind her strong will to take all this unnecessary punishment. 'Tell me why at least. If you want to thank me,' I demand.

'They have my treasure.' She smiles weakly.

'I'll help you get it back,' I say without falter. She's astonished; her wide eyes looks into mine, searching for confirmation.

'Can I have your name, sir?'

'Ah, it's Sanji.'

'Sanji-san... Thank you so much for your thoughts but I'm afraid I don't know how to accept such kindness.' A sad little smile appears on her lips as she bows before me.

'I'm just saying, that woman is peeking out of the curtains right now. Without a doubt she is planning on penalising you for what I did earlier. And seeing as it was my fault for acting bluntly, I'd like to make it up to you.' I inhale and exhale from my pipe. 'What's that treasure of yours?' She simply stares at me. That smile is long gone, replaced by a rather worrying expression.

She seems reluctant to tell me like it's a secret. '...My sister's...' She says something only to trail off as soon as she began. 'I appreciate the hope you gave me and I think I trust that Sanji-san is an honest man so here goes: she has my little sister's ashes.'

As much as I would be offended that she said the fact she only thinks she can trust me, but I figure that this girl has had much abuse and betrayal in her life that she unable to confide in anybody –especially she had only just met me. Besides, hearing this matter of injustice makes my blood boil even more.

There's no way I'd leave her until she is safe.

'Your name is?' I ask while I smoke.

'People call me Hebi here. I can't remember my last name.'

Without another word I grab hold of her around the shoulders and march towards the bath house. She tries to stop me but I cling on to her firmly, and as soon as we enter it occurs to me that this is no ordinary bath house. The red candle light, the draping strips of silk, the hazy atmosphere, and the poorly covered women all suggest clearly that this is a brothel.

'I want to stay a night here,' I say to the arrogant fat woman and I can see in Hebi-chan's shameful eyes that she can hardly believe what she's hearing.

'Well, sir, I hope you have money – five-hundred Beri a night with a girl of your choice,' she replies, grinning. 'But I think you already chose one.'

'That's no way to speak to a customer,' I state as I fish out the correct amount of money to hand over to her.

'Oh, certainly customer-sama.' She takes the money, eyes glowing with greed, and immediately changes her tone of voice and attitude. 'Thank you and please forgive me.' She bows to me and turns her attention next to me, 'Hebi, you know what to do. Take the customer to the bath.' She orders, and when I start to walk on ahead, she whispers to Hebi, thinking I'm too busy to listen. 'Well done, Hebi, I'll let you off today's incident.'

'Yes, Mama-san,' she says with her head hung low, then she catches up to me. 'This way please.'

'Ah,' I light my pipe again. 'There's no need for a bath. Just take me to your room.'

'Yes, this way please.' She leads me pass a pavilion and a pond, up the stairs and took a right before coming to a halt in front of a door. During this short walk I could constantly hear the laughing and giggling from men and women, even the sound of moaning.

Hebi kneels down and slides open the door, bowing she says, 'After you sir.' Seeing this place, her job, bothers me, though I'm in no position to cause a dramatic stir so I allow myself to take the first step inside.

Once inside the dark room, Hebi follows. Shutting the door, she went to light up the paper lamps with matches. The room became dimly lit. I slip out of my zori* (*Zori, flat slippers) and went to stand by the open window. The sun has officially waved goodbye for today as the moon gradually ascends from the corner of the sky. Meanwhile, she joins me by my side just as a soft breeze picks up.

There's an awkward silence.

'It's your first time in a place like this, isn't it?' She finally spoke, detecting my discomfited nerves.

'You got me,' I begin but she cut me off.

She inches closer to me and pulls down her dress, presenting her fragile bare shoulders. I notice a few fresh bruises dispersed at random parts on her white skin. She speaks again, 'Then maybe I shall show-'

'No,' I cut her off. I look into her eyes, expecting her to break down from the trauma of the earlier events like an average person would. I must draw my line here in concrete_. As much as I would like to…_ 'I don't want you to have to force yourself onto me.'

'In that case, why are you here? I never asked for any of this,' she says through a frown. 'I know my body is dirty, and I haven't washed myself today, but I don't have anything else I can repay you with!'

Hearing this has irritated me in so many ways. On top of that, I actually feel quite offended. After all, I know she should rely on me at least for tonight though I can't make her understand and this may not be the smartest gesture but I grab her wrists and pin her to the nearest wall. 'Hebi-chan, don't compare me to those other men who visit this place,' I remark. 'If you doubt me I can walk out right now.'

Silence.

'I didn't come in here so I can take my reward for helping you. I'm here because I would like to lend a hand in getting back your sister's ashes.'

'I'm sorry,' she murmurs. 'I'm not used to men not wanting my body. I work in a brothel after all. But I just can't understand why it is you're so eager to help someone like me.'

I start to explain to her about my childhood, my shitty old man, my experience in becoming a chef, up until how I opened my own restaurant. I watch as her face grows from confused to intrigue. She must not have had a decent, respectable conversation with a man.

Suddenly, I hear her stomach rumble. That's right, I've been talking for quite a few hours – how unprofessional for a chef to fail to notice that she's probably starving. The moon has now accommodated comfortably in the sun's place, high in the sky.

The moon is bright tonight, distributing a grey tint on roof tops. 'What's on the menu today? Bring something.'

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><p><strong><em>Let me know what you think by leaving a review. :3<em>**


	4. Just Add Some Soya Sauce

_**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own One Piece._

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><p><strong>Let Life Be Delicious<em><br>_**Hebi's Point of View**_  
><em>**

Sanji-san; he's quite an easy going character and he doesn't hesitate to share his life stories with me. He even requested that I should call him Sanji-kun. On top of all, he's a rather effortlessly striking guy. He has a heavy side-swept fringe which covered his left eye fully, and above the right, he has this peculiar curly swirl at the end of his right eyebrow and it surprisingly suits him well.

In one day I have managed to fall to rock bottom, thinking the last of my dignity will be smothered as the result of someone else's supposed destiny, then I met him. Compared to my first impression of his extraordinary strength and kindness, I must have seemed like a useless soggy sock sulking on the ground.

I was nervous when he saved me but angry and ashamed when he saw what I do for a living. I tried to keep our relationship strictly to business terms but he is the first person who made an effort to talk to me as a respected individual. Then I acquired a strange feeling.

Is this what genuine excitement feels like?

Still, I will have my doubts about the future, but tonight I find myself jokingly complain in my head whilst pouting with a mouthful of rice and eel, _I wish I can try the taste of his cooking._

'One day I'll take you to my restaurant, Pinwheel,' he smiles at me as if he can read my mind, even though my dining etiquette only spells out the word 'clumsy' as I gulp down my food. He reassures me that my way of eating is his favourite spirit.

'That'd be nice," I shyly mumble with a smile, my eyes darting from his eyes to my lap.

'Hebi-chan, the truth is,' he says after slowly chewing a bite of his food, returning back to a topic that was left a while back. 'I want to help you because you managed to make me forget what I was going to do.'

I may not have noticed this before, but under the blend of candle light and moon light, his eyes are compassionate and mesmerising.

'I have a plan,' he composes. 'Although I can't beat up that Mama-san because I would rather die than to kick a woman, I'd like to steal the urn back for you - I have friends who can help.'

My face tenses. 'It's no use,' I respond. 'She doesn't keep it here. In fact, I don't know where it is.' I can tell that it'll be impossible for him to believe my actions.

'So you let that woman play you like a puppet based on a tiny assumption that it may still be around?'

'I'm afraid so,' I say, but I've never felt bitter about this decision. 'Hey, listen, thanks for being so nice.' He beams at me to let me know that I am welcome. Still, the thought of the fact I may not see him again echoes in my head. I shall fill him in on my life story as he did for me with his own. I tell him that my parents were killed when my sister and I were young, I don't know how or who by, and I can't quite recall their unfamiliar faces. Not much did commit to my memory but their voices. That, and I always remember that my father's favourite flower was lilies as it was a pet name he had for my mother.

I used to hold my sister's puny hand and spend the days circling in front of market stalls; the uncles and aunties knew my parents well, so they offered us little portions of food here and there. We were homeless and needless to say, we struggled with living life on the streets. And one day, when I was eleven and my sister was seven, she caught a severe illness. We hadn't held money in our hands for God knows how long so a doctor was out of the question. I remember weeping in the streets begging for a kind-hearted doctor to help but I failed to move them. Then, just nine days later, my gorgeous baby sister drew her last breath and flew to the heavens.

I needed a generous amount of money to cremate her properly and this is when I met Mama-san for the first time in my life. She assured me not to worry and promised that she would take care of the matter for me. She didn't lie, though it hadn't occurred to me that she wanted something back in return. She imprisoned me – some girls are here because of family debts, some are here because this is merely a way they know to make a living – I do not receive pay like my sisters. And if I wasn't stuck here for so long I'd probably have learned another skill to feed my own mouth.

Now here I am, thinking what an embarrassment it would be to become someone else's burden, even if the feeling is a relief when the weight drops and my shoulders become lighter as if shedding off heavy armour. Even if the sweet smell of freedom is close enough to be tasted.

Therefore I pluck up the courage to ask this kind stranger to leave. 'Someone as caring as you,' I begin, hating every aspect of the idea of being on the receiving end of sympathetic aid. 'Must have a young woman in your life?' I must come across as a pathetic character.

He denies but his cheeks starts to blush. I speculate he has a fine, physically unspoiled girl in mind, and if so, she ought to be wondering the reason for his absence at this very minute. It definitely wouldn't portray a good impression if he were to be spotted walking out of this place.

The sun is marking a close to another dawn. 'You've done so much for me. More than necessary.' I claim, almost as if I'm demanding. 'You should get going.'

'I'll come back again tonight,' he says casually while he breathes out a cloud of smoke. I can't be sure if that was a reassurance so I warn him about falling into this black hole of a business because it robs fortunes endlessly. And unless he really enjoys a quick fix, it's guaranteed he'll feel awfully depressed the next day. 'Well, I can't say I feel any less than good now.'

'Why...' I whisper because I can feel tears tickling my throat. 'I don't want to be pitied.'

An annoyed expression hangs among his face. 'In my opinion, that is the most unattractive thing you've said so far.'

Hearing this, my mind is washed into a blank space like I don't really know what to feel. I say nothing. He rises up to stretch his stiffened limps and walks over to my side of the table so he can be next to me. 'A lady should know they are valuable and worth the time of others. Can't you realise how stunning you are both inside and out?'

Altogether, my heart skips two beats, or even three. I stop breathing for a while. I try to recollect my senses but it's no use since my eyes are glued to his. 'S-stop it!' I force my eyes to fall onto my lap. 'You don't know what you're talking about!' I know my face ought to have reddened intensely like a tomato, or an apple, or a radish. This feeling is alien to me. I have never been granted the permission to experience such a forbidden emotion.

It dawns to me how weak and unconfident I sound, even to myself. This life is mine to lead. I'll grant my own permissions. I deserve to see for myself.

I suddenly realise that he's about to kiss me.

Just maybe, I'll do what he said.

Even though midnight was several hours ago...

_Happy birthday to me._

* * *

><p><em><strong>It's been a while but here's another chapter :3<br>Please please review ^w^  
><strong>_


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